Of Gods and Kittens
by Eilidh17
Summary: Kidfic: Jack gets domestic while Daniel tries out his mummifying skills. Another Isis tale.


~Of Gods and Kittens~

Jack O'Neill – Domestic Goddess!

Err, God.

Whatever. I've decided to take action this year and despite it only being a few days after the jolly old fellow paid us a visit, I'm taking down the Christmas tree and cleaning the place up. The tree is probably the easiest task of the lot. Considering Mikta (Danny's cat, Isis) completely de-baubled it and shredded the tinsel, all I really have to do is pull it down and put it back in its box. Yes, okay, it's a fake one, but hey, Isis did a real number on it a week ago and getting another living one at short notice was a bit of an ask. As for the lights? Well, I pulled those down when she pulled the darn tree down on my head. No way was I risking a repeat performance and getting myself electrocuted.

Oh, and remember those baubles Danny was sticking down his diaper? They were paper ones, thankfully. Retrieving them was no fun at all considering he really needed a diaper change at that point. Not sure if he timed it deliberately or not, but lets just say I didn't bother keeping the baubles to be re-used next Christmas.

So, normally I wouldn't put too much thought into when I packing up the tree. In fact, in the past – when I've actually felt the need to have a tree in the first place – I've been known to leave it up till March or April. Usually by the time I get the urge to pull it down, the thing has dropped its branches and the baubles have more dust on them than Daniel's precious artifacts.

Daniel now being Danny, well, I figure getting in early and clearing away the Christmas cheer to make way for the Easter Bunny cheer is probably a wise move.

With the tree packed away, I turn my attention to the kitchen, but I really don't want Danny helping me there. I have a cunning plan.

"Hey, Danny." To get his full attention, I put the roll of paper towel I'm holding onto the livingroom table, and kneeling down to his level, pluck the colored block from his hand before he can add it to his towering pyramid. "Want to watch a movie while I clean?"

"Uh, huh." Pyramid forgotten, he rolls off his butt and on to his knees, climbing his way up the side of the bookshelf until he's stretched to full height. "One?"

"You want that one?" I look at his choice and frown. I was going for the whole Sponge Bob/Wiggles experience, but Danny has dead kings and stinking tombs in mind. Funny thing is the box set of Egyptian tales he's chosen was his from when he was bigger. I swear, somewhere inside that child's mind is his adult self just waiting for the right time to assert himself.

He nods at me and tries to pull the box set out, but it's wedged tight.

"How about I get that for you, huh?"

With all the grace of a dying swan, he flops back to his butt and slides over to his blanket and pillow, thumb homing in on his mouth like a missile. If I'm lucky, he'll be asleep before they've finished cataloguing the funerary items in King Tut's tomb. How do I know these things? Trust me, I've sat through these DVDs more times than I care to admit to.

The things I do.

I slide the DVD in the player, pull the drapes, and scan the area for Isis. She should be outside with her face planted in the snow and her butt wearing an imprint of my boot after going commando on the fish bowl again. Yes, the feline goddess with the mostest managed to get the lid on the tank open and helped herself to sushi in the form of Bastet the guppy. Ironic really, because according to something Daniel told me years ago, Bastet is the Egyptian Cat goddess.

I spot her. She's curled up on a cushion on the sofa, one eye open and tracking my every moment. Her tail is thumbing against the back cushion, and she looks ready to pounce if I so much as step into her no-fly zone. It's cool. I back away slowly and leave Danny and his protector to watch the DVD, narrated to the deep soulful tones of Avery Brooks. Why it is that sci-fi and ancient history go hand in, I'll never know.

My kitchen-hand exploits go smoothly. Every so often, I peek over the counter to check on Daniel, and from time to time, I can see his head bobbing in thoughtful time to the subject on the screen. He might be only one and-a-half, but this kid will know every dynasty of the dead kings before he's two.

Mikta has kept up to her side of our unspoken agreement as well, and I haven't heard so much as a peep out of her. Must be my lucky day. Grateful for a lack of half-time entertainment from the kid and his cat, I decide that the shelves could do with a good clean down, and tormentors permitting, I might hit the cupboards as well.

Job done! Another quick peek over the counter and I can see Daniel is still being entertained by Avery. Isis is out of my line of sight, but I figure, if she's quiet she can't be up to too much, right?

I finally get to the point where my hands resemble prunes, but my kitchen sparkles. Nigella _would_ be pleased. We have a thing going, Nigella and I. She whips up these great recipes from nothing at all and when I try to copy them, I fail miserably. Instead, I'm consigned to watching her loveliness and drooling over her ever successful soufflés.

What of Mary Steenburgen, I hear you say? Well, like the last drop of a fine wine, she has been pushed into the annals of history, along with my hair coloring… I'm a Nigella Lawson man now.

I shuck my cleaning apron,(tell Teal'c and Carter and you're dead) and whipping up a quick snack for Danny, I join him in the livingroom.

"You hungry, buddy?" He nods his head, holds out a hand and waggles his fingers, but keeps his gaze steady on the screen. Not that I really need to know what's holding his attention, I decide to tune in for a moment.

"Oh, that's just not right!" Yes, my kid gets his kicks out of ritual mummification it seems. Thankfully this program is rated okay for kids – so the box informs me. Say what you will, but these Egyptians had a bit of a heady history if you ask me. Mind you, I'm slightly grateful that I've joined in at the part where the ibis and the cat are at the receiving end of having their entrails dropped in Canopic jars. Speaking of cats and entrails, I swivel on my butt and look over at the sofa.

"Ah, Danny?"

There are bits of cheese and spittle running down his chin, but he manages to smile brightly around the piece sticking out of his mouth. "Ya?"

Knew I should have brought a napkin with me.

"Nice look you got going there." I reach out and catch a piece before it hits the carpet. Can I say eww about now? "Where's Isis?"

"'sis?"

"Yeah, the cat. Small, grey, long-hair, bad attitude – Isis?"

He pats the blanket between his legs and smiles up at me. "Here."

There?

Where?

"Under the blanket? You've got her under you're blanket?"

Despite the many and varied ways I've though of doing away with our feline pest, I'd never seriously consider enacting any of them, even though number 128 is a personal favorite of mine: A Ragdoll steering wheel cover.

Closely followed by 136: A pair of Ragdoll hiking boots.

"How about we let her out, Danny? It has to be hard to breathe under all of that wool."

He shakes his head at me and pats the blanket again. "Ummy"

Ummy? What the heck is a… I look at the screen and back to the blanket. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me. You didn't!"

I then look at the table where I left the roll of paper towel, to find it gone. "You did!"

A mile-wide smile breaking his face, Danny pulls back his blanket to reveal Isis, her body rolled in paper towel until only her little face is showing. "Ummy!"


End file.
